


fights and flights (and maybe a fear of heights)

by coykoi



Series: Spideychelle Week 2020 [4]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Airplane, Angst, Broken Up, F/M, Fear of Heights, Open ended, ambiguous ending, meet again after high school, potential crash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24905998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coykoi/pseuds/coykoi
Summary: Their relationship started off easy, at least.But the easiness ended with high school.It wasn’t so much a break-up as it was a break-down.He broke down each and every reason why their relationship couldn’t work anymore. Why it wouldn’t last. How they would be better off without each other. It was a long, thought-out list, and it made sense.And Michelle couldn’t fight it—as much as she tried—because sometimes, facts matter more than opinions. She went home that night, no tears, but she felt empty and lacking.Which was so much worse.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: Spideychelle Week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1797901
Comments: 25
Kudos: 60
Collections: Spideychelle Week 2020





	fights and flights (and maybe a fear of heights)

**Author's Note:**

> day 4 !

“What do you mean there aren’t any more seats on the plane? I have a _ticket_.” 

The gate attendant gives her an apologetic look, glancing periodically down at the computer screen. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. You were over ten minutes late, and the flight was already overbooked. We had to give your seat away.”

Michelle rakes a hand through her hair, frustrated at herself and the airline, despite it not being their fault that her alarm hadn’t gone off that morning. But, she can’t miss this flight. It’s the last one going out of New York to London for the next three days.

And she has a job interview in two.

“Come on, please. Is there anything I can do to get on? I’m desperate,” she admits, squeezing the handle of her luggage.

The attendant taps her pen against the palm of her hand, thinking. She begins to shake her head no but stops. “There isn’t...unless you can get another passenger to give up their seat. You have seven minutes until the plane is scheduled to take off.”

Michelle nods, straining a small smile, before shuffling into the cabin. She knows her chances are slim to none, but at least she can say she’s trying everything. 

“Excuse me? Hi. I, um...I don’t know if this is against your policy, but the gate agent said I could ask if someone would be willing to give up their seat for me,” Michelle prompts to the flight attendant nervously. “Please, if you could make an announcement...or something?”

The attendant, tag reading Felicia, doesn’t bother hiding her eye-roll. “You’re right. That is against policy. Technically, only the airline can have people give up their seats if a flight is overbooked, and they’ll receive compensation for getting off.” 

“Oh.”

“Gwen is too nice. She’ll let everything slide,” Felicia says, fingers twitching. There’s a moment of pause before she sighs and reaches for the mic. “Attention, passengers. Is there anyone on this flight that’s willing to give up their seat for this young lady? You’ll be reimbursed in full.”

Silence ensues, and Michelle awkwardly shifts from one foot to the other. No one volunteers at first.

And then two hands raise at the same time. Coincidentally, right next to each other.

“Ah, put your hand down, son,” the older man urges before standing up. “I’ll do it. Didn’t really want to be on this flight anyway, but my wife was sending me off.” He subtly rolls his eyes whilst grabbing his bags from the overhead compartment.

“Thank you for your consideration. Have a good day, sir,” Felicia tells the man, and he tips his hat on his way out, smiling at both of them.

“You as well. Enjoy your flight, Missus.”

Felicia turns back to her. “Alright, go back, give Stacy your ticket, and then take his old seat.”

Michelle breathes a sigh of relief, giving her a small nod. “Thank you.” She hands over the ticket, deposits her carry-on, and finally collapses down into the new seat, closing her eyes. There's maybe a minute or two of silence before another voice filters through the air.

“Well, this is nostalgic, isn’t it?”

Michelle’s eyes suddenly snap back open, and she tightens her grip on the armrests, thinking _what are the fucking chances_. How many more curveballs is the universe going to throw.

With one twist of her head, her stomach drops in confirmation. Low and behold, her seatmate is Peter Parker—least favorite ex-boyfriend of the 21st century.

“You’re going to London, too,” she says, monotonous.

“Obviously. I’m on the plane,” Peter replies with a slightly awkward smile. 

Michelle nods slowly. “And yet, you were gonna give up your seat.”

“Well, I mean...I’m going to London, but I’m in no rush,” he elaborates, rubbing the back of his neck. “You, uh...you seemed to be in a rush, though, so I figured…”

“Always thinking of others, aren’t you, Parker?” Her tone comes out sardonic, her smile tight. He blinks, slightly taken aback, and she has to look away. 

“Are...are you still mad at me? It’s been years, MJ—”

“Yeah, it’s been years, so don’t bring it up,” she snaps, rubbing the side of her brow. Thankfully, Felicia cuts off anything more they would’ve said with typical service announcements.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome aboard Flight 1550 with service to London. I’d like to direct your attention to the television monitors. We will be showing our safety demonstration and would like the next few minutes of your complete attention.”

Michelle leans back in her seat, trying to pay attention to the video, even though no one pays attention to the video. It’s hard when Peter’s elbow keeps knocking hers off the middle armrest.

“Can you stop?”

“Sorry,” he whispers sheepishly, pulling back, and for a split second, she feels bad.

But it’s just an armrest, so she really shouldn’t give a shit.

Felicia finally finishes with, “If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask one of our crew members. We wish you all an enjoyable flight.”

The only way Michelle is going to find this flight enjoyable is if she somehow manages to get some sleep.  
  


* * *

  
Sleep is actually impossible on an airplane, Michelle quickly concludes—at least for her at this moment. So, she’s resorted to listening to her favorite True Crime podcast and counting the number of screws that are littered across the cabin’s ceiling.

Keeping her neck tilted up is not comfortable.

But, it’s not like she was smart enough to bring a pillow or anything. Nope. She’s out of practice with flying on planes, having not been on one since their European vacation from back in high school.

Michelle glances briefly at Peter’s snoring form and tries not to think about the way they used to fall asleep back then, his head constantly lolling on her shoulder.

Their relationship started off easy, at least.

But the easiness ended with high school.

It wasn’t so much a break-up as it was a break-down.

He broke down each and every reason why their relationship couldn’t work anymore. Why it wouldn’t last. How they would be better off without each other. It was a long, thought-out list, and it made sense.

And Michelle couldn’t fight it—as much as she tried—because sometimes, facts matter more than opinions. She went home that night, no tears, but she felt empty and lacking.

Which was so much worse.

But she’s good now. Would probably be better if Peter wasn’t sitting next to her on a nine-hour flight, but it’s fine. Worrying about her upcoming job interview is probably more important than worrying about her past.

A different flight attendant comes around with a cart of beverages, and Michelle takes a bottle of water. Two, actually—only because they’re the miniature ones.

Michelle’s in the middle of untwisting the cap when she feels a weight fall on her right shoulder. It’s too familiar an action, despite having not felt it for years.

And, no, that’s not going to do, anymore.

She pushes him off.

Peter immediately wakes up, almost whacking the side of his head against the window. His eyes are wide, alarmed, but then he remembers that they’re on a plane. Gaze finding hers, cheeks reddening.

“You fell asleep,” Michelle simply offers.

“Sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean to—not on you…”

“Obviously.”

“I need to, um...I’m going to go to the bathroom.” He stands up, hesitantly looking at her legs. “Do you mind…?”

Michelle moves into the aisle so he can get out before sitting back down. She drains her first bottle of water within seconds and goes to reach for the second one.

Decides against it and puts her earbuds back in.  
  


* * *

  
There’s turbulence.

Michelle grips her seat a little harder than normal, trying to remind herself that it’s nothing to be worried about. Planes experience it all the time. Hell, they even went through a few back on the plane coming home all those years ago, and she’s still alive.

But when the wind shakes them again, Michelle thinks that maybe it was just luck. Her nails dig into her palms, and she plants both feet on the ground, just in case.

Tries not to think about how far they’d fall from this altitude.

Michelle doesn’t have a fear of heights. Not exactly. The Eiffel Tower and the Empire State Building? Easy. She’d probably die if she fell off, but that possibility is half the fun.

It’s different when you’re flying in a metal machine with little to no escape. If you plummet, you plummet and then you explode with the plane.

Not even an irrational fear, she thinks. 

“MJ? Are you okay?”

Michelle swallows, glancing over at Peter. He’s watching her with the slightest furrow to his brows.

What does he have to be afraid of up in the air? Nothing.

And god, that prospect is annoying.

“I’m fine,” she says slowly, trying to instruct her fists to unclench. “Just not a fan of turbulence. Remind me to look up the statistics of plane crashes when we land.”

Peter tilts his head slightly, trying for a small smile. “Have you always been a nervous flyer?”

“Well, I don’t exactly have enough frequent flyer miles to take planes everywhere, so I haven’t had the chance to test that out,” Michelle says, ducking her head. The floor is really interesting. “I’ve only ever been on, like, two flights before this, and I was fine, but you know. Extenuating circumstances.”

Meaning, she was asleep for a good portion of the time and didn’t have anything to worry about. It’s easier to die in your sleep.

“Just relax,” he murmurs softly. “The pilots know what they’re doing.”

“That doesn’t stop plane crashes, you know,” she mutters, gnawing on her lower lip. Once more, the plane rocks, and her nails dig further into her palms. “Oh, my god.”

Peter places one hand at the back of her neck, the sneaky shit, knowing that typically helps calm her. The other unfolds her fingers, giving her palm a squeeze. “No, no, we’re fine. We’re going to be okay.”

“I’m traveling by submarine from now on.”

“We all live in a yellow submarine, yellow submarine,” Peter sings, completely off-key, and she has to laugh.

Just a little.

She kind of hates that even out of practice, he still knows exactly how to soothe her.  
  


* * *

  
“So...MJ,” Peter nervously prompts after an hour or so has passed since her minuscule freak-out. His hands are flexing on the armrests. “Can we...I don’t know...talk for a little?”

“No,” Michelle replies, not looking up from her book. She knows what this is about, can see it in his posture.

“Please? I know you said you didn’t want me to bring it up earlier, but I thought that maybe…”

Michelle’s eyes shoot up, and she frowns at him. “I’m busy, Peter.” She waves her book in hand as if it’s not already glaringly obvious, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“Look, I feel like we should be able to be mature about this. I know that...it’s still a sore subject, but if we could just talk about it...then maybe we could move on. It’s unhealthy to hold a grudge, you know.”

“I don’t know, I feel perfectly fine,” she comments, paging through her memoir, only to hear him sigh again. She looks back up. “I don’t have a grudge against you. I just don’t particularly want to rehash what’s been put to rest.”

“But…”

Michelle suddenly snaps her book closed in exasperation, knowing she’s going to get closure whether she wants it or not by the end of the flight. “But what, Parker? Do you regret it?”

“No. I just—”

“If you don’t regret it, then what is there to talk about? Yeah, we dated in high school. We broke up in high school. We’ve moved on, and now, we just happen to be on the same flight. End of story, right?”

“You have to know that I just wanted you to be safe, Michelle,” Peter finishes, his voice merely a whisper, fingers kneading together. 

“And you know what? Safety is subjective,” she says, shaking her head, feeling a soreness from the memories. “Because it’s not like I felt safer without you than I did with you. But you took my word with a grain of salt.”

“I’m sorry.”

Michelle looks at him, finds the emotion in his eyes, the sincerity. “You just said that you don’t regret it.”

“I don’t. But I’m sorry that I hurt you,” he clarifies quietly. “I thought I was doing what was best for you with everything going on. I thought I was protecting you.”

She gives him a wry smile. “That’s what they all say. It wasn’t for you to decide, Peter. But, I do appreciate the apology.” 

Peter nods, staring down at his knotted hands. “I know I should’ve said it earlier, but I’m glad I had the chance now. And flying with you is always a plus.”

Michelle tips her water bottle. “Cheers.”

He fist-bumps it.  
  


* * *

  
“Can I listen?”

Michelle has to take out an earbud to hear him. “Did you say something?”

Peter quirks his lips, nodding to her phone. “Can I listen? I, uh, didn’t bring anything in the means of entertainment. I thought I’d be able to sleep during the whole flight.”

“A whole nine hours.”

“Yeah.”

Michelle purses her lips, twisting the wire between her fingers. “I’m listening to True Crime. It’s usually super dark. Or, you know. Super hilarious.”

“Your specialties,” he says with a smile. 

“You still want to listen? Because from what I recall, you always used to fall asleep in the middle of those serial killer documentaries.”

Peter frowns. “It was the narrator’s voice. So...dull.”

“You’re going to fall asleep while listening to this, then.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Michelle sighs and offers him an earbud before pressing play. 

Peter lasts about five minutes longer than she’d expected, and then his head starts drooping. It lands on her shoulder again with a quiet thud, and her hair is getting into his mouth.

He snores a little.

She doesn’t push him off this time.  
  


* * *

  
“You want to share a packet of saltines?”

Michelle looks at Peter, who’s already ripping the package open and placing a cracker on his tongue. She scrunches her nose up. “I don’t like saltines, and there are only two in the packet.”

“That means you have to cherish them,” he says slowly, like she’s supposed to be some sort of saltine expert. “Come on. You know you want it.”

“I know what I don’t want, and that’s high blood pressure.”

“It’s one saltine!”

“No one likes saltines.”

“What? That’s not true!” Peter immediately twists around in his seat to face an older, balding man with the roundest spectacles she’s ever seen. “Excuse me, sir. Quick survey question. Do you happen to like saltines?”

“No?”

“Oh, my god.” Peter slumps back in his seat, sighing. “I can’t believe two people on this plane have no taste.”

“It’s actually a popular opinion. You’re in the minority.”

“Shut up, MJ,” he grumbles, and she laughs. His eyes meet hers, shoulders slightly perked. “What?”

“Nothing,” Michelle says, hiding a smile behind her hand. 

Peter grins.  
  


* * *

  
Michelle is in the cramped airplane bathroom when she feels it again, the turbulence. She grips the counter, a different kind of nervousness churning in her stomach, because the next thing she knows, the whole cabin starts shaking.

Losing her balance, she stumbles into the door.

It’s just turbulence, Michelle reminds herself. Not a big deal. The pilots know what they’re doing. They went to school for the sole purpose of learning how to work a flying death contraption.

Still, not wanting to take any chances, she quickly exits the bathroom, only for the lights throughout the entire airplane to flicker off. She’s drenched in darkness.

Totally normal.

It’s just turbulence messing with the power.

Michelle takes note of how people are starting to put their seatbelts on at the instruction of the flight attendants. Felicia seems mildly worried just like everyone else, but she masks it underneath a smile.

“This is just...turbulence,” Michelle says softly when she sits back down next to Peter, who’s staring out the window. “Right?”

“Of course,” he replies, giving her the same smile she saw on Felicia. “But buckle up just in case.”

“Everyone double-check to make sure your seatbelts are fastened,” Felicia instructs as the lights come back on, walking up and down the aisle. “Seatbelts, everyone.”

Michelle swallows the lump in her throat, tightening the belt around her waist as much as it’ll go. She shouldn’t have come on this flight, job interview be damned. This kind of fear isn’t worth it.

“MJ,” Peter whispers eventually, lowering his head. “Listen…”

“I know this isn’t fucking turbulence, Parker,” she mutters under her breath. “If you know something is wrong, you should tell me so I can mentally prepare the will I haven’t written.”

Peter hesitates for a moment before finding her hand, squeezing in a way that makes her think everything is wrong. “I saw something fly into the engine. I don’t know if it was just one or both, but…” He trails off, a worried crease between his brows.

“So...we’re screwed, basically.”

“Not necessarily,” Peter begins to say, but he’s always been a terrible liar. She merely nods, massaging her temple.

The feeling in her stomach is making Michelle want to keel over. There’s so much fear of the unknown and anxiety rolled up in one.

Finally, an overhead announcement from the pilot confirms what everyone’s been thinking in the back—or the front—of their minds.

“ _Brace for impact._ ”

“ _Brace, brace, brace. Keep your heads down, and stay down_ ,” the flight attendants start chanting while buckling up themselves, and suddenly, Michelle feels like she’s going to throw up. “ _Brace, brace, brace. Keep your heads down, and stay down_.”

The plane shakes violently.

“That man was so lucky to get off this flight,” Michelle whispers to herself, ducking her head into the seat. 

If they make it out of this alive, this definitely isn’t going to help her fear of flying.

But the chances of that are slim and getting slimmer. They’re over the ocean, no runways to be seen. 

People are calling their loved ones, tears already running down their faces.

Peter is squeezing her hand like no tomorrow while talking to his aunt on the phone.

Michelle knows she should call her father, despite the fact that he would probably say ‘good riddance’. She has a younger sister living in Salt Lake City, but they’ve never been close. Hell, maybe she should call her job interviewer and let her know that she won’t make it in.

In the end, she sends a text to her sister to watch the news for any plane crashes and then turns her phone off.

“MJ,” Peter says, shaking his head in a way that she can’t see his eyes. Her hand feels a splash of wetness. “I’m, uh...I’m sorry for lying earlier and saying that it was going to be okay. I really don’t know anything, I guess?”

The plane shakes again. She can start to see the water.

“No, it’s fine. I, um, I feel like...maybe I should be the one apologizing. I don’t know why, but I’m sure there’s a reason—and I just can’t think right now.” She laughs despite herself, crying just a bit. “Maybe you should’ve just given me your seat in the beginning.”

Peter closes his eyes, smiling through his tears. “I’m glad I didn’t.”

“You still want to go to London?”

They’re a few dozen feet above the water now, going down too fast for the landing to be gentle.

“No. I just want to go home,” he whispers.

“Maybe you’ll still get to.”

Peter looks at her and his eyes say everything his mouth doesn’t. “It’s okay. I’m already halfway there.”

She squeezes his hand.

And they hit impact.


End file.
